


Hand in Hand in Death

by fineinthemorning



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Angst, Bloodplay, Cannibalism, Character Death, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-05-08 18:08:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5507684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fineinthemorning/pseuds/fineinthemorning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We walk together hand in hand in death. I trust you'll end this nightmare when the time comes?<br/>This is a collection of one-shots for CCG's reapers. Most of them happen within the same universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hand in Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Some of these will be shippy, and some of them won't. Just a head's up~! Thank you for reading!

 

“Haise?” It took a great deal of effort to wake Arima Kishou as his body and mind worked as one to ensure he always had the sleep he needed. However, if there was ever a way to stir him from his slumber, elbowing him in the nose hard enough to cause a nosebleed was one of them.

It wasn’t uncommon for Kaneki to thrash about in his sleep. It had been one thing for him to wake up in tears or screaming when he still knew himself as Sasaki Haise, but it was quite another now that his memories had returned. His dreams had grown increasingly violent, and some nights it was so bad that he’d actually let his kagune slip once or twice in his sleep.

Whether he slept in the reaper’s bed out of love or fear, it wasn’t clear, but either way, it was certainly out of necessity and trust.

“Haise, I’m here.” Arima pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger and tried to wipe at the blood with his left hand. He wouldn’t reach out to Kaneki until he had calmed down. He knew better.

Thankfully, tonight was not as bad as it had been other nights. The horror appeared to have passed violently but quickly, and there was no kagune to be seen or _heard_. Arima had just been in the right place at the right time to get elbowed in the nose.

The half-ghoul appeared to be trembling, and slowly, he curled into himself, half asleep.

Forgetting his injury temporarily, Arima looked the Associate Special Class investigator over thoughtfully. There was a poor amount of blue light coming in from the curtains from the city lights, but it was enough that he could make out the other’s expression. Kaneki was clearly clenching his teeth and his brow was furrowed. That wouldn’t do. Arima moved his left hand down to Kaneki’s forehead, gently rubbing his thumb over the the crinkles to smooth away his stress. Kaneki’s nose twitched, and as Arima sunk fingers into his black hair, Kaneki’s eyes opened lazily, half-lidded.

Just as the investigator realized what was happening, Kaneki’s wrist was on his, and his kakugan cracked into view as he pulled Kishou’s hand from his hair and brought his fingers to his mouth to lap up the blood from his injury.

Kishou felt the blood from his nose trickle down over his lips, and as Kaneki licked away, he sat up to turn on the light.

“Kishou, _don’t-_ ”

The voice. It sounded like Haise’s. Arima frowned but pulled his hand away from the lamp and put it back to his nose to continue to stop the bleeding. He knew it wasn’t Haise. What was worse, was that he knew Kaneki was using that tone on purpose.

But the reaper couldn’t help but play along. He missed Haise, and he was sure that was most clear to the person in bed with him now.

Kaneki sat up as well and moved quietly to follow the smell. It was clear that Kaneki enjoyed the taste, yes, but this wasn’t just about desire- not of hunger or gluttony or even lust. Kaneki was thinking of something else when he caught the thin river of blood that had escaped down the other’s neck. He was thinking of what he _needed_ when he traced that river up Kishou’s neck with his tongue. He was thinking of what he _wanted_ when his tongue found Arima’s lips and he licked the blood dry in slow kisses as it ran. He was thinking of what he _wished for_ every night and every day- _every waking moment_ \- as he grinded his hips against Kishou and continued to kiss away the blood long after it stopped.

Though they spent each night together, they’d not been intimate since Kaneki’s memories had returned. Though Kaneki appeared to take some amount of enjoyment in the other benefits of a relationship- having someone to talk to, having someone to comfort him, having someone who showed concern and care for him- he had never allowed anything between them beyond kisses and some amount of cuddling.

Perhaps the black reaper was not considering his actions now. Arima attempted to do so for both of them, “Haise, this is not necessary. We don’t have to-”

“Hush.”

It was something Haise never said, but it was still in that same _tone_.

“Well?” Kishou had participated in the kisses, but had otherwise kept his hands to himself. Since Haise had disappeared, he had not taken control- _not once_.

Still using that same eager and lusty voice Kaneki pleaded into his ear, “Block them out. Make them go away.”

Arima had an idea of what he meant even if it was a little saddening. That voice, again, was dishonest, but the words were not.

Mismatched eyes as empty as his own stared back at him, “Please-Kishou- _I’m still here, aren’t I_?”

He missed Haise, but regardless of how broken Kaneki Ken was, he did care for him as well. Arima moved his hands, and with each caress and every touch, Kaneki told him that Haise would never come back and could never come back.

_Arima was no longer in control._

By the end of it, however satisfying it was, the satisfaction from the release was matched equally with regret. When Haise used him, there was something honest and pure in the action, but when Kaneki used him, there was vengeance in his embrace and manipulation in his words.

When they were one, it was clear to Arima now that Haise had always wished for life, but Kaneki wished only for death . . . _no matter the price he needed to pay for it._


	2. Three Cups of Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arima and Sasaki's relationship over three cups of coffee~ This is not shippy~ More papa! Arima than anything~

First Cup

 

The reaper walked into the hospital room and just as the door knob had clicked, the bandaged patient in the hospital bed turned his head to look. He couldn’t see, of course, because the wide white bandages over his eyes were still present, but it did indicate to Arima that he was awake and it told him that he had his attention.

“Good morning, Haise.” Arima sat in the chair beside the hospital bed.

The younger male shifted to sit up, “Arima, good morning.” His voice was light and soft, like falling snow, and his presence was equally bleak; he moved carefully in small actions; straightened his back, moved his arm to the edge of the bed, opened his fingers- one action at a time.

“Your coffee,” the investigator offered, his voice dropping slightly in severity whenever he was around the amnesiac. He was careful to use both hands to place it into Haise’s waiting left hand, and Haise was equally careful in accepting it.

With a shallow bow of his bandaged head, Haise expressed his gratitude as he did every morning the reaper came in to visit him with some kind of offer of kindness. He let his fingers feel the top of the cup for the opening from which he could drink and then brought it to his lips to take a sip. He smiled.

“How is it this time?” Arima studied the amnesiac with a curious expression.

Haise had grown to understand any tiny shift in Arima’s tone, “Arima?” He could hear the accusation.

“You didn’t like it yesterday,” the investigator clarified.

The patient’s shoulders slumped forward a bit in defeat, “I’m sorry, I-” He had wanted to hide that, but this man who visited him every day seemed to know him well already though he had claimed to not know his past self.

Though Haise could not see it, Arma shook his head, “There’s nothing wrong with that, but you can’t depend on me to always notice that.” Arima tried to always take advantage of what some called teachable moments. There was a lesson in everything, and he hoped to teach Haise as much as he could. The amnesiac certainly needed it; it was as though he was working with an entirely blank slate. “You have to tell others when you’re uncomfortable with something or you will bring quite a bit of unnecessary suffering upon yourself. There are times when being overly polite is not necessary.”

Sasaki turned his head down as if ashamed, “Sorry, Arima, I-”

“Enough apologies. . . . It’s better?” He meant the coffee.

A blush rose to Haise’s cheeks. Arima seemed like a kind person, if not a bit difficult to understand at times. “It’s very good.” He turned his head in the direction of the investigator’s voice and that same small smile surfaced, “Thank you, Arima.”

“No need to thank me, Haise.”

 

Second Cup

 

“Was there something you needed, Arima?” Haise took a seat across from Arima in the small cafe a block from headquarters. It was a chain place, but the coffee wasn’t terrible. Arima seemed to like the sandwiches here, so he had joined him here several times during his training.

“It’s been a while.” Arima appeared to be happy, even if he wasn’t smiling. He visibly relaxed when he saw Haise, and the air around him felt lighter. He gestured towards the waiting cup in front of Haise. Apparently, the reaper had already ordered him his coffee.

“Oh! Thank you! It has.” The fact that Arima had dodged his first question told Haise that the man actually just had been wanting some company. That was quite alright. Haise would be lying if he said he didn’t miss his time with his mentor. To go from living and working beside someone every day to seeing them roughly once or twice every few weeks was not easy. “How have you been?”

“Just busy.” Arima really had nothing to say to that question. Haise knew his daily routine better than anyone else. He really did little, if anything, outside of work.

Haise kept his smile in place; Arima never acted like his life was a sad one, “I understand.” He never hinted at it being lonely, either, but maybe something had changed since Sasaki had left?

“How are you adjusting to the Quinx?” Arima went to work on his sandwich. Kaneki always thought it was interesting that he took such small bites when he ate.

Haise laughed at the question as he recalled the ups and downs of the last two months or so, “Well! Well! They’re kids, so they’re a bit of trouble, but they’re learning.”

The warmth emanating from his smile as he spoke of them told Arima that he’d already grown to love them.

“I see.” It did make Arima uncomfortable, somehow. He knew that Haise would be perfect for this particular position, but it still didn’t sit right with Kishou. “Anything I can help with?” He couldn’t place why, but maybe, if he could help in some way, that uncomfortable feeling would disappear.

“I-I mean . . . I don’t know. I was pretty surprised I was named their mentor.” Haise was thoughtful a moment and his hand moved to his chin as he went on, “It’s been two months, and I still don’t feel cut out for the job. It’s just . . . more than I expected.”

Arima studied the table a minute before speaking plainly, “You’re wrong.”

Haise blushed suddenly, “Eh-sorry?”

Arima looked up at him, his gray eyes staring Haise down through the square lenses of his glasses, “You were named as their mentor because we believe in you- myself, Mado, and the Director.”

“Y-yeah, but-” Haise didn’t expect such direct praise from Arima. Even though it had happened once or twice before, it was still rare.

Arima set down his sandwich, “You need to believe in yourself, as well.”

Haise put his hands up defensively, “Haha- of course I do, but-”

Arima’s tone only grew more fierce, “No excuses, Haise. We’re depending on you, and so are they.”

“Yes, sir.” Haise straightened immediately and nodded his head once. though still blushing, he attempted to act as professionally as possible. In this line of work depending on someone meant trusting them with your life.

Arima was not finished. He hadn’t driven it home just yet. “You can’t expect your team to trust you if you do not trust yourself.”

Sasaki’s eyes went wide as the realization dawned on him. That’s what Arima was really talking about- trust. Arima knew better than anyone that Haise had trouble trusting himself, “I mean-”

“Are you concerned you’ll lose control? That hasn’t happened in some time.” Arima offered a way out.

Haise refused to take it, “Not exactly, but-”

A silence fell between them.

Arima finished his sandwich. That uncomfortable feeling had all but disappeared. It was nice . . . being needed.

Haise sipped at his coffee. He struggled with controlling his emotions like Arima did or Akira or Ui or Take- It was terrible . . . feeling inadequate.

Arima finally broke the silence, “Why do you respect me, Haise?”

“A-Arima?” Sasaki didn’t understand where this was going at all.

“It’s a simple question.”

Sasaki felt himself grow nervous, but, out of respect for Arima, he took the question seriously and answered honestly, “Well, ah- you’re skilled, you’re responsible- you . . . You care.”

That’s when Arima smiled. It was small and soft, and it somehow made Haise feel nostalgic. “I’m sure you have already proved the first two to them. Now, you have to prove the third.”

“ . . . I understand.” It was actually rather endearing advice. Haise never expected it. Maybe someone special had come into Arima’s life and softened him up in the last two months? Haise returned the reaper’s gentle smile with a wide one of his own, “Thank you, Arima.”

“No need to thank me, Haise.”

 

Third Cup

 

“Black reaper, hm? Do you mean to compete with me, Haise?” Arima’s eyes are smiling, and it is enough to tell Kaneki that the man is simply teasing him.

He returned the expression with a smile of his own with his lips still pressed firmly together, “I didn’t choose it for myself. One person began calling me that, and then it caught on quickly,” He gestured with his right gloved hand that it was all nonsense that was out of his control, but his expression told Arima enough.

For some reason, Sasaki Haise was enjoying being the subject of other’s fears.

“I suppose so.” No, Arima knew that it wasn’t Sasaki Haise who was enjoying it.

Arima had joined him for a morning cup of coffee when he’d seen him sitting alone in the headquarter’s cafeteria. He had been making quite the effort to meet him recently, but Haise had dodged him every time with one excuse or another. The Special Class Investigator’s actions meant only one thing to Kaneki. He opened the floor for his mentor, “There is something else you wanted to discuss.”

Arima didn’t mince words, “You’ve been avoiding me, Haise,” and his friendly expression fell as his eyes emptied out and his lips formed into a firm line, “Is it because your memories have returned?”

The black reaper immediately went on the defensive, making his eyes wide in disbelief, parting his lips in confusion, and straightening his back in surprise, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I can see through you, Haise. I always have.”

Kaneki relaxed, “If you’ve known, why haven’t you ever said anything?”

The reaper was either speaking directly from his heart or he had previously practiced this conversation, “It’s important that you believe that I trust you.”

“That’s no longer important?” Kaneki jumped to the first conclusion, his tone of voice becoming more stern by the second. He was nervous to lose Arima as an ally.

Arima appeared to be prepared for that as well as he gave no indication that the tone of voice, one he’d never heard Haise direct at him before for, bothered him in any way, “With you regaining your memories, I imagine your opinion of me has changed.”

Kaneki was thoughtful a moment, and he stared blankly at nothing in particular. “No,” and he looked back at the reaper, “Not . . . dramatically.” He appeared to be surprised himself, “Really, I . . . understand why you did what you did. I don’t  appreciate the lengths you  went through, but . . . You’ve done more in my best interests than not.”

Arima appeared relieved, and Kaneki hadn’t expected that.

Arima noticed. “You know, Kaneki, I-”

“Haise, please.” Kaneki interrupted immediately, his eyes piercing cold through the frames of his glasses. He wanted to make it clear that so long as he was here with the CCG, he would continue to be referred to as Sasaki Haise.

“ _Haise_.” That actually made Arima smile softly, but his eyes looked forlorn like he was looking back on a memory only to realize that it was dream.

“You’re not alone.”

The black reaper blinked. Of all the things Arima could have said to him then, he hadn’t expected that.

His defenses fell away. He didn’t smile, but he did look at Arima with earnest gratitude, “Thank you, Arima.”

“No need to thank me, Haise.”


	3. Like a Cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is shippy and sort of takes off from the universe of the first chapter. Thank anon for the idea.  
> Comments and kudos much appreciated!

 

"What's that?"

At his side, the black reaper was not carrying a metal attache case. In its place was a violet colored pet carrier.

“Maris Stella.”

Arima didn’t hide how pleased he was, his eyes blinking into life as he knelt down, “Maris Stella, hello again.” His voice still sounded apathetic to those who did not know him well, but it was clear to Kaneki that he was attempting some amount of affection towards the cat.

A bit annoyed that the Special Class Investigator, who was dressed ready for bed when he had come home at nearly ten, stopped him in the doorway to their apartment, Kaneki handed him the small cage with a huff so he could remove his shoes.

Arima took the cage without a word to him and brought her into the living room and sat on the floor, “Beautiful, Maris Stella. Let’s get you out of there.”

Kaneki did not suppress the urge to roll his eyes at the investigator’s actions. Always a way with words. Oh, well. It was no secret to Sasaki how much Arima liked cats. When Akira had asked Sasaki to take her for a few days, he’d complied, but he’d also indirectly mentioned that, by extension, Arima would be watching her as well. Akira hadn’t seemed surprised, but she did caution Sasaki that Maris Stella had told her she didn’t like Arima.

Right, because cats could talk.

He hung his coat and walked into the living room just in time to see Arima reach inside the cage and watch as he pulled the feline from her safe place earning him several scratches all over his hands. He fumbled and the cat fell from his hands to the floor and scampered away quickly.

Maris Stella could now be seen behind Kaneki, leaning into his legs as a request for attention. The black reaper looked down at the cat quizzically. She’d been kind to Haise. Akira had said before he’d left even though he hadn’t asked, _‘And not to worry, she told me she likes you very much.’_

Ken picked up the cat and held the ball of fur in a cradle in his arms. It began to purr almost instantly and he actually smiled at that. He’d beaten Arima at this game, at least.

Arima frowned and pretended not to care as he gathered the other items from the carrier and closed the cage. He stood to tend to his small cuts that had only now begun to bleed as he’d moved his hands around food and toys stretching the skin and wound open.

Ken dropped the cat onto the couch, careful so that she would fall from his arms easily to jump safely onto the cushions. Just as the older of the two tried to walk by towards the kitchen, Kaneki grabbed his wrist.

Arima looked down at him, his expression blank but his eyes knowing.

Kaneki’s eyes, through round lenses, locked the other’s and held them, not letting go as as he brought Arima’s hand to his lips. His tongue slipped forward and he licked along the now bloodied cuts.

Arima’s eyes widened and Kaneki’s left went black. The white reaper felt a pain in his chest, his heart gripped just as tightly as the half-ghoul held his wrist. Kaneki moved closer and grabbed the reaper’s other hand.

“Are you going to do this every time I bleed?” Kishou managed a smirk as Kaneki shamelessly licked along the cuts on his other hand.

“Why not?” Kaneki mirrored the smirk as he mirrored so many things in Arima now, “You’re delicious. And besides, you like it.”

“Do I?”

Kaneki moved against the reaper’s chest and pulled his wrists around him, pulling him closer he so could reach Kishou’s neck. He whispered kisses across it,  “Of course. You’ll let me have my way.” He scraped his teeth against his neck suggestively, letting go of his wrists to pull at the collar of the casual night shirt he was wearing.

His voice breathy as his eyes fell half lidded and his hands fell to the small of Kaneki’s back, Kishou asked, “Will I?”

Kaneki bit into the skin of Kishou’s bared shoulder, drawing blood instantly. He hadn’t taken any skin but the blood was enough that when he smiled, his lips were painted red, “I can do anything I want with you.”

Arima said nothing. The bite hadn’t even caused him to flinch but the growing pain in his chest was getting more difficult to ignore and increasingly hard to hide.

Kaneki’s left hand traveled up Kishou’s neck until it rested on his cheek and his thumb could brush slowly against his bottom lip, “You were actually in love with Haise.” His left hand slipped back further and his fingers slid into white hair, “And me?” Arima followed his touch as if under a spell, “You’re in love with me?”

Kishou still said nothing, but he did pull Kaneki closer to him.

The black reaper let go and pushed out of the embrace. The blood from where he’d bitten Kishou began to seep through the night shirt like a painted canvas. Kaneki appeared livid, “How desperate are you?”

Arima straightened the collar of his shirt and cleared his face of emotion, “I’m not. I never have been. My actions reflect purely on you.”

“What?”

“Anyone who truly knows you, would love you.” The words come easy.

They are frightfully honest, and that’s what Kaneki hated most about them. “What?! You don’t know me.” He doesn’t yell, but the emotion and expression made Kishou’s heart skip a beat in a familiar yet painful way. It was like Haise. No, it was like who Kaneki really was, not like who he was pretending to be.

Arima’s eyelids fell gently, and his expression was of tender compassion, something he reserved only for Haise, “I know, in great detail, at least part of you.” He stepped closer to Kaneki to close the distance between them once more,  “The more time I spend learning the rest of you, I only love you more.”

Kaneki’s eyes widened behind round frames, and for a moment, he looked scared, “How can you-?”

The white reaper ended his words in a kiss, gentle and meaningful.

Kaneki didn’t struggle, and he felt himself slipping away as he opened his mouth to invite Kishou in. He could remember every kiss as Haise- the sweet dream that was loved so deeply. He didn’t hate him, but he hated what was leftover in his wake. Kishou couldn’t mean these things. He just wanted to remember Haise. When he kissed him. When he touched him. When, just now, he’d let him bite him even- it was all because he wanted Haise back. It had nothing to do with him- the person he was now.

They’d ended up on the couch, Arima’s shirt removed. Arima continued with his gentle kisses and firm hands and Kaneki convinced himself it was the reaper reaching for a dream he could never reclaim.

Arima stopped and pulled them apart, his hands on either of his shoulders, “The kitten ears. You’ll put them on?”

Kaneki visibly flushed as the memory returned. Haise had worn it once for Halloween. A tail, too. His blush deepened. Kishou had put new meaning to the words ‘heavy petting’ that night. He’d, no Haise-he’d-he’d acted so shamelessly that night.

“Pervert.”

Arima’s closed-mouth smirk of a smile returned, “I’ll remind you that you’re the one who purchased them.”

“I-”

Kishou kissed Kaneki’s protest into submission. Annoyed, Kaneki moved to his knees to take control of the kiss, but just as he was about to move on top of the white reaper, he stopped.

Maris Stella had jumped between them, stretched, and laid down.

The black reaper frowned, “That doesn’t even _look_ comfortable.”

Arima, on the other hand, appeared suddenly distracted, eyes lit up in the presence of the ball of fur. Kishou attempted to pet the white fluff with a gentle hand, and this time, Maris Stella didn’t move away and only regarded him with mild caution.

“Let’s stop.”

“Agreed.”

Kaneki sat on the other side of the couch and licked his lips before letting his kakugan recede. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, and just as Kaneki was about to leave and find a book to read, Kishou spoke quietly.

“I know … you have made it clear that I call you ‘Haise’, but here- between the two of us, may I call you-”

“No.” Kaneki didn’t even look at him. He didn’t want to see what kind of expression the white-haired reaper could produce when he sounded so gentle and weak.

Kishou tried to insist, “It doesn’t feel right that I-”

“No.” The black reaper didn’t look at him when he walked away, either, and as soon as he made it to Kishou’s bedroom door, he closed it purposefully behind him.

Maris Stella looked at the reaper remaining and yawned, _‘You just don’t get it do you?’_

Kishou looked at the closed bedroom door and that familiar ache in his chest continued. No, he didn’t get it at all.


	4. Iris Nebula

Kaneki sucked in air through his teeth and pulled off his glasses. With the fingers of his left hand, he began to massage the bridge of his nose, his forehead, around his eyes.

Arima put his book down and just watched from the other side of the couch. With each passing day that Kaneki grew more lifeless, Arima became more expressive and more candid than ever. Concern was written on his face, and he was experiencing emotions he was normally able to wave away with a simple and reasonable explanation. 

For example, the _guilt_ he was feeling now as he watched Kaneki really wasn’t necessary. Every move he’d made at V14 had served a specific purpose. 

_But he enjoyed it._

The action wasn’t the crime; the emotion following it was. He’d enjoyed fighting Centipede back then. But, how could he have known?

Arima watched Kaneki put his glasses back on and continue reading.

How could he have known that that same ghoul would end up becoming the single most important person to him?

“What?” Kaneki turned his head to the side a hair, his eyes narrowed in a familiar annoyance. 

Arima blinked. He had been staring. He looked away and went back to his book.

Kaneki let it go and returned to reading as well.

Only a few minutes had passed before Arima was watching him again. Those gray eyes scanned each line- up and down- up and down. Kaneki looked like he was at peace, terribly focused, but enjoying it. Haise had looked exactly the same as he read. Of course they would resemble one another; they were the same person. 

What was it about his gray eyes that made them so endless? Was it that they looked alive? Inside them, there were clouds that moved like smoke through them, changing as he moved them across pages, across skin, and across time. They’d touch memories that Arima would never know anything of. The world and histories of Kaneki Ken would be something he’d never be allowed to know, because Haise had always been sitting right beside him, but Kaneki was on a distant shore. 

“What?” Kaneki closed the book this time with a sigh of frustration.

No, Arima realized he was further away than even that.

“The Iris nebula.”

The black reaper waited for an explanation. He made sure to paint his face with indifference. He wouldn’t show how uncomfortable it made him when Kishou would stare at him with eyes so heavy with love. The half ghoul looked away. Kishou made everything difficult.

The Special Class investigator moved closer, and, leaving his book and his reason behind, he wrapped his arms around the other in an embrace that made Ken stiffen and shudder.

They sat like that for only a moment before Kishou pulled him into a more comfortable position and he was beside him, looking down into his eyes. Kaneki looked away again wondering, with an ever-present annoyance, when Arima’s eyes had become so expressive. Had they always been?

Arima moved his hand beneath the half ghoul’s chin and moved it so that their eyes would meet again, “You’re thirteen hundred light-years away.”

“Thirteen hundred light-years away from _you_ ,” Kaneki clarified, his eyes darting away as a light shade of pink began to tint his cheeks.

Without any visible consent, Arima leaned down and kissed the other’s lips once, but as soon as he began to pull away, Kaneki pushed out of his embrace. He moved back just to hit the arm of the couch behind him. There wasn’t much physical distance between them, but the action alone had done enough. 

Arima’s face fell into defeat. It wasn’t an emotion he was used to feeling, but he was becoming familiar with it quite fast. Since Haise had regained his memories, defeat followed him like a shadow. It could appear at any time given the right setting. 

The black reaper was very skilled in providing the right setting.

“It’s my fault you wear glasses.”

Kaneki couldn’t bear to look at the reaper’s eyes for more than a second before drifting his gaze towards colder things- the coffee table, the television, the wall. “Even if it is . . .” his voice became softer, “What’s done is done.”

Those eyes were not directed at him, but he could still observe their beauty. “You shouldn’t have to hide them behind glass.”

Kaneki knew he was not talking about his eyes alone, but this was not a conversation he particularly wanted to have. Didn’t Arima understand? Didn’t he realize what would happen to him if other’s knew? His voice was quiet, but there was a growing edge to it, “It’s a matter of self-preservation. The CCG has no room for a half-ghoul with a hidden agenda.”

“The Iris nebula is a reflection nebula. I’m not enough, am I?”

“Kishou-” Kaneki brought his hands to his face, so he didn’t have to look at the other man. His fingers reached beneath his glasses and rubbed at his closed eyes.

Arima didn’t stop there, and as he spoke, his hands moved to the black reaper’s wrists to pull his hands from his face, “There are others from your past who loved you, and those who loved Hai-”

“Shut up!” Kaneki jerked his wrists away and freed his hands, his eyes hot with anger as they threatened from the other side of the round frames.

“Ken-” Arima’s voice had gone unbearably soft, gentle, and careful.

Kaneki stood suddenly, his book falling to the floor in the process, “Don’t call me that!”

“I just want-”

Kaneki snapped back at him, “I don’t care what you want! Don’t you get that?” Arima stood. “Don’t you understand?” Kaneki felt the sting of tears in his eyes. “I don’t care what you want.” Arima embraced him so that Kaneki’s face could rest on his shoulder, “I don’t care at all.” The black reaper had broken. “I don’t care.” His legs buckled, and Arima caught him to slowly lead them both down to the living room floor.

“Kishou-” Ken’s eyes were pleading, gray and blue dust clouds seven light years deep, as he pulled Kishou on top of him and forced them together in a kiss.

Kishou doesn’t tell him he loves him. Arima is learning that it only makes things worse. Instead, he shows him with his eyes, his hands, his fingers, and his mouth. He shows Kaneki that no matter what distance he has to travel, he will cross that distance, even if it’s only to provide a brief moment of happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kudos and comments. Feel free to drop me ideas and headcanons at my tumblr.


	5. Drabbles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short tumblr drabbles for these two

**Prisoner**

“The reports say that you’ve reached somewhat of a stability mentally. You’re no longer crying or refusing to eat?” Arima closed the file in front of him on the table where he met Prisoner 240 every few days now and directed his gaze to the prisoner’s eyes. They had healed now, and were a beautiful gray color similar to his own. He had been surprised to see that, but it was clear that the shade of gray in Prisoner 240′s gaze held a light that Arima’s hadn’t for some time …

“ … Yes, the books you brought helped me.” The prisoner nodded with the tiniest of smiles and then looked away, eyes searching around the room as he continued to speak,  “When I’m reading, I can forget what is happening, and I can forget where I am … Honestly, I don’t even remember why I was crying at night in the first place.” He visibly shivered. 

“ … ?” Arima regarded him thoughtfully. What the half-ghoul was saying was certainly possible, but the implications that someone would willingly forget their own identity was a bitter pill to swallow.

“Honestly, I don’t recall much of anything … I can’t remember my name, if I had friends or family, how I got here … I mean, I know that you put me here, I think, but before that … all I remember is that things were very painful.” When the prisoner spoke, he put his hand to his chin as if he were struggling to recall a past he’d seen only in a dream.

“You have no reason to lie to me.” It was not an accusation. He was merely stating facts aloud.

“No.” The prisoner straightened his posture, suddenly nervous.

Arima attempted to sound more gentle, but showing any intended kindness was not his strong suit, “What is it that you want to do?”

“I’m sorry … ?” The prisoner’s eyes widened, and it reminded the investigator once more how young the half-ghoul was.

“What do you want to do?” It was such a simple question, but Arima empathized. He was sure that if someone asked him the same thing, he wouldn’t be able to give much of an answer, either.

The half-ghoul bowed his head and whispered his response. 

The investigator wasn’t able to quite make it out, “Come again?”

“I don’t want to die,” he managed to look up.

Arima nodded. Everything fell into place so easily. Not wanting to die … it was a wish every living being shared no matter animal or human or ghoul. 

“Do as I ask, and you won’t.”

The prisoner came to life, a gentle smile gracing his face- one that showed that he trusted him, and that he trusted _only_ him to keep this promise.

“Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

**Secretary**

“One other thing, _Arima-san_.”

Arima looked up from the files on his desk to give Haise his full attention. The emphasis and tone used in his name, his last name at that, did not go unnoticed. “Yes?” Since the Tsukiyama operation, Haise had stopped being familiar with him and had begun to treat him coldly- not with hatred or malice, but certainly not with the care or affection he used to. The white reaper assumed that much of his memory had resurfaced, and that wasn’t a problem so long as he was able to keep his eye on him. It did, however, appear to have put an end to their more personal relationship, and that was something Arima was doing his best to be unaffected by. He thought he was doing a good job of hiding just how unhappy he was not knowing Haise on an intimate level any longer, but he was always kept out of the rumor mill for a reason.

“You know anything about this?” Kaneki’s tone was clipped as he pulled out the drawing he’d found in the lounge on the floor of Arima’s office. Sasaki did not show how deeply annoyed he was by it with anything other than narrowed eyebrows.

Arima stood and walked around his desk to get a better look.

What?

He took the paper from Sasaki and studied it further.

There, drawn rather expertly, was a very feminine looking Haise with a tight, short pencil skirt, pinstriped tights, high heels, and delicious curves. The picture even depicted him in glasses holding a clipboard. Arima’s eyes followed the line of the speech bubble to read its contents aloud in a simple monotone, “I’m at your service, Arima-sama.”

Beneath the drawing was a title in bubbled letters that read, “The Reaper’s Sexy Secretary.”

He looked up from the paper to see that Haise was trying to hide his blush beneath his glasses, “It’s very well drawn.”

Sasaki crossed his arms, not raising his voice, but more emotion seeping through, “ _That’s not the point._ ”

Arima continued to study it, “Right, I agree that changing your gender is a bit over the top. You’d look just as good with a flat ch-”

“Kishou.”

Arima felt his lips form a small smile, “You haven’t used my first name in months.”

“Just end this.” Sasaki was _not_ smiling.

“I’ll take care of it …” Haise turned on his heel to leave, but before he made it to the door, Arima added, “Though I don’t see what’s so terribly wrong with it. It’s not like you haven’t worn a skirt for m-”

“Enough.” Haise refused to turn around, his blush now impossible to hide and his heart beating more quickly the more flirtatious Arima became (regardless of how terrible he was it).

Arima stepped closer, “It’s not like you _aren’t_ my beautiful secre-” Behind him now, he was about to put his hands on Haise when the smaller man turned around suddenly. 

“Enough, I said!” Kaneki snapped.

Arima’s eyes widened slightly, and he stepped away, turned his back to Haise, and walked quietly back to his desk. “I apologize. I understand now what you’re truly asking.” Their relationship, at least on that level, was truly over.

Internally, Haise wilted.

Arima didn’t look up and began shifting papers as he sat down, “I’ll take care of it Sasaki.”

Haise made his way to the door. He couldn’t be with Arima any longer; it didn’t make sense. He just-

“For what it is worth, though, my feelings will remain unchanged.”

Kaneki shut the door behind him as he left. He knew exactly what feelings those were. The words whispered on pillows. The sex in that very office. The promises before going into battles. The emotions. He was very familiar with them, but he-

He couldn’t handle them any longer.

He didn’t need them anymore.

Not for what he needed to do  … and not for where he was going.

 

* * *

 

**Umbrella**

“I brought you an umbrella.” The newly appointed S3 secretary held the large  black two-person umbrella over the Squad Leader’s head.

Arima, having just finished giving a short report after a ghoul corpse was carted away, seemed entirely disinterested. Most people saw very little changes in the expressions that played across the reaper’s face, but Kaneki knew them all quite well. Yes, even the death god had a variety of quirks- like the way his eyelids would droop when he was bored and exhaustion began creeping in or the way he held his quinque case loosely, like gripping it tightly- or even normally, would just be too much effort in his current state. 

Now left alone, Arima’s lips formed slowly into a line, or, for those who knew his expressions well, what could be called a _smile_ , “Associate Special Class Sasaki, that isn’t necessary.”

Kaneki breathed in deeply and then exhaled. Arima usually called him _Haise_ , and while the others on duty were still present, they weren’t within earshot. What was with the formalities? “Ensuring the health of one’s squad leader isn’t listed as a duty for the secretary?” His tone wasn’t light like it had been before he’d woken from his sweet dream. Instead, it was cold but not in a way that suggested he was angry or annoyed. In fact, his tone matched Arima’s rather well in a way now.

Arima placed his hand on the metal of the umbrella just above the handle so as to take it from the shorter man, “Oh, so your thoughtfulness is really only your sense of duty to your job?”

Kaneki let go of the umbrella in protest, “That’s not what I-”

Arima tipped the umbrella behind them suddenly so that he could duck behind it to place a kiss on Kaneki’s lips. 

A second later, Kaneki pushed him back, blushing and grateful that his smaller frame could be hidden behind Arima from anyone else to see. “What are you doing?”

“Hm? We’re sharing an umbrella, Haise. Doesn’t that mean we’re lovers?” His eyes hid behind the lenses of his glasses. He was somehow more playful now with Kaneki than he had been with Haise as if they’d almost switched places.

“You’re teasing me now?” Did Kaneki sound like he was pouting?

“You don’t like it?” the death god questioned as he righted the umbrella to protect them both from the rain.

Kaneki looked back at Arima blankly. Why on Earth was he still humoring this guy? He’d been with _Haise_ \- not him; he was _different_. So, so why was he imagining the other’s warm lips back on his with the cold rain falling around them?

Arima smiled knowingly. 

 

* * *

 

**Puns**

“Ken, you know better than to discard your quinque. It’ll cost you an arm and a leg to replace something like that.” He was referring to an earlier battle that day in which, in order to distract a ghoul, Kaneki had literally thrown Yukimura while attacking simultaneously with his kagune.

Kaneki looked up from his book. “I don’t know if I should kiss you or slap you. (And you know I hate it when you call me Ken.)” He muttered the last line under his breath, knowing that even if Arima heard it, which he was sure he would, it wouldn’t matter to him either way. It’s as if the death god neeeded the distinction sometimes, even if he _also_ argued that Kaneki still held many of Haise’s traits. 

Arima moved his glasses up his nose beside him on the couch, “We don’t seem to see eye to eye as well as we used to.”

The half ghoul set down his book on the coffee table before cracking a finger, “Slap you. I definitely want to slap you right now.”

“That would be but a ghoul’s errand.” Arima let slip a smile.

“ _Kishou-_ ”

Arima set his book down as well, “Haise thought I was funny.”

“Well, between us, I’m rather divided on your sense of humor.”

“Ken-”

Kaneki turned his body towards Kishou, suddenly on the defense, “That was completely unintentional!” Realizing himself and that he might have actually enjoyed Arima’s puns, he sat down properly again and crossed his arms, “You don’t even know the half of it.” He bit his lip 

“ _Oh, but I do_ ,” Arima’s tone was clearly implying lewd acts.

“D-damn it, Kishou.” Kaneki blushed, remembering the things he’d done as Haise. 

“Knowing is half the battle, and now there is only one half left.”

“That’s not going to-” Kaneki’s words were swallowed in a kiss.

Arima pulled away, smug, “I’m undefeated, remember?”

 


	6. Death's Embrace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll continue adding drabbles and chapters to this. Just consider them out of order but happening in the same universe? Maybe except for the three cups of coffee one? Black Reaper (depressed Kaneki) is so much fun to write. As is Arima mourning the loss of Haise and desperate to strengthen his relationship with Kaneki. T-T Ahhhh~
> 
> Oh, character death this chapter. That's why I'm saying to consider it out of order.

There. He’d said it. He’d said everything he’d never told Haise- the mystery of himself that he had never revealed.  Now, he had one last request.

“I want you to make it as if you were the one who killed me. You, Ken Kaneki.” The world that could be seen through his left eye was shrinking smaller. He focused on his lover’s face. The world was black save for Haise’s face, who, now, stared back at him in shock and confusion.

He knew that Haise understood that he trusted him, but he gave him an extra push, “You will very soon understand . . . exactly what it is that I wish for.”

Kaneki struggled to take in everything Arima said. Kaneki struggled to process what Kishou had just done. Kaneki struggled with the request. He struggled. He would never.

“Please.” Arima knew. He knew the moment he’d asked Haise to kill him that he would not comply. Even with his memories back, Haise- Kaneki Ken- his soul was gentle, and he . . . he loved him. Since his memories had returned, he had not told him in so many words, but Kishou had felt it in his touch, heard it in his sighs, and seen it in his eyes on slow mornings.

Haise stared back into Arima’s gentle eyes, speechless. He was feeling regret sneak into his thoughts and push him towards acceptance. He remembered the way he’d treated Kishou since the Tsukiyama Raid. He’d barely traded smiles with him. He’d pushed him away. In his depression, he’d wrongfully blamed him for what was completely beyond the reaper’s control. If he could just turn back the clock of time, he would have treated him more gently, loved him more honestly, treasured the time they’d spent together and the moments they’d shared in one another’s arms.

“You are the only one capable of doing this.”

Kaneki closed his eyes, feeling his heart crack and shatter from where it had been chipped away at over the years since he’d been reborn between two worlds. Kishou had existed there since his birth. Haise understood why Arima had requested what he had; he just didn’t want to accept it.

Kaneki’s eyes reopened to see his lover slowly dying in his arms, and his voice came out in a whisper, “I understand. I was the one who killed you.” Tears were falling. He may as well have been Arima’s killer. Even after what he’d just learned, he could have done more to make Kishou happy in his last days, and that would forever haunt him.

Arima felt relief flood him, and he reached a hand up to Haise’s face, attempting to comfort him as he felt each second his life slipped away.

“Thank you.”

“I’ve always hated it.” Arima saw a piece of his past and wondered if Haise had seen it, too. He could remember that once . . . he’d been able to see everything. Death. Killing. Stealing from others- their loved ones, hopes, dreams, futures that would never come to be.

“I was finally . . . able to leave something . . .” He placed his hope in the hands of his love. Haise had given him the small freedom to pursue what he really wanted. Even if it had been temporary, it was still worth every minute he’d spent with him. His life was short, but he recalled every moment he’d spent at Haise’s side- every smile- every embrace- every time he was granted the freedom to choose life over death.

His tears fell, not from pain, but from the purest joy he had ever realized. They trusted one another. They loved one another. They had given one another the greatest gift of life- finding purpose in what seemed an impossibly endless  nightmare.

“K-KISHOU!!” And Kaneki understood. As he cried, he did his best to give his lover the same gentle smile he’d once said made him feel whole.

“H-hai-se . . . ” Arima managed to smile with his eyes alone just before they went blank and his soul was freed from life’s shackles.

Haise gently pressed his eyelids closed and pulled him close in an embrace.

“I promise,  Kishou. I promise.”

 

_My wish . . . Haise . . . is for a world in which you and the others like us, the ones who exist between worlds, can find peace. I’m sorry I could not remain with you. I’m sorry we could not create it together._

_Thank you for bringing hope to a life that had none._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, that was so short. OTL

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think if you have time~!


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